When people ask me, what was my happiest moment ever, they expect the answer to be something grand. But it is not. I can only think of one moment, a seemingly forgettable one. That for reasons unknown, has been etched in my mind. It was the break after college exams. I came back home from college to spend the holidays. I had travelled overnight in bus. I was tired because I did not sleep well. I freshened up and lay down of the sofa. I dozed off. And I had the nap of my life. Sleep was induced in highly concentrated levels in just few minutes. I opened my eyes like a monk opens his, after a deep peaceful meditation atop the Himalayas overlooking an amazing view. It was 7:00 am. The summer sun from the clear blue sky blinded me for a second. My father was reading the paper on the chair beside me. I could hear my mother preparing breakfast in the kitchen. A sense of trance came over me. I felt deeply gratuitous for all things right at that instance. The anticipation of eating my mother’s food after a long time, of spending the holidays at home, of being with the people I love, all blended and I lay there soaking in everything. I did not want to get up and end this ecstatic state. This is my happiest moment.
Whenever anyone utters the phrase ‘going home’ it brings out a pleasant feeling in me. Going home is like the restore to default setting. Like starting over. The state I go to when no force is acting on me. In equilibrium. The place I am the most comfortable. Where I am my truest self.
I know every nook and cranny of my house and its surroundings. I walk the streets where I played as a kid. I recognize the things that have changed. New houses. A new fence. A new street sign. Still it has the old rustic beauty. Or my mind is playing tricks? What is this sense of belongingness? The place defines me. I am from this part of the world. It has made me. As I walk, a familiar face pops up. I introduce myself. The frown and creases around the eyes vanish and the face lights up with a warm smile. Familiarity is beautiful. I indulge myself in the world of certainties.
Maybe I will hate it if I stay here longer. Being a visitor for a short period of time may romanticize things. The idea of going home is good only when coupled with the fact that I come back someday. There is nothing for me here. Or is it there but I am not willing to venture? Mind works in mysterious ways. It makes me long for things and then pulls me back. But I have found it makes me a lot happier if I just listen to it. In the moment, just be.